Mycroft Holmes Hates
by HiM'e'iTSu
Summary: Prompts accepted! 221B, Mycroft/Lestrade. Mycroft Holmes wasn't very fond of small children.
1. Tie

****Word count:** **221

**A/N:**I was bored. I wanted to write something. And then I got a prompt and idea of writting a 221B. So here is the result...

Thaks to **JennaEf **for a prompt and a quick spell-check:)

Also, I'm now taking prompts for 221B stories, so you are free to give me a prompt (I find it the most interesting when it is one word but any way is fine. Just keep in mind that the story is supposed to be short). I think that every story will also have a variation of a phrase "Mycroft Holmes hated" in it. I can't promise to write impossibly fast, but I will do my best, especially if I find your prompt inspiring:)

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><p><strong><em>Tie<em>**

It was distracting. Mycroft hated the bloody thing. Bright, catchy and utterly disgusting. Whoever had chosen it must have been absolutely color blind. Whoever had agreed to wear it had to be absolutely out of their mind.

"You like my tie?" Lestrade's voice broke into Mycroft's inner rant. "You've been looking at it for the past five minutes."

"I've been _glaring_ at it." Mycroft replied with dignity. "It's the most terrible tie I've ever seen."

Lestrade looked down at his chest. The orange monstrosity hung from his neck, rumpled and creased, and terribly _orange_. With bright fuchsia dots.

"I think it's fine," Lestrade replied, lifting his eyes to look at Mycroft. "Did it not catch your attention right away?"

"I spotted it behind tinted glass of my car back at the parking lot."

Lestrade nodded, pleased with himself. His lips stretched into a smirk as he closed the distance separating him from Mycroft. "Everything to get your attention, the most important man of the world."

"That is an overstatement. Of the United Kingdom maybe." Mycroft's eyes wandered while he estimated boundaries of his political power.

"Maybe not for everyone," Lestrade's hands snaked around his waist. "But for me, certainly."

Mycroft grabbed the damned tie and kissed him; fingers misshaped the fuchsia dots. So what if his lover was stupidly color blind?


	2. Crumble

**A/N: **Another 221B. It's fun to write them.

Again, great 'Thank you' to the impromptu beta **JennaEf**. She also gave me this prompt.

**Prompt: **crumble (as in pie)

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><p>Mycroft winced at another unbearably loud crunching noise in the silence of the almost empty café. And then another one. He knew Sherlock was doing it just to annoy him. No need to tell how much Mycroft hated it – the sound grated on his nerves more than grammatically incorrect sentences.<p>

Being the one to initiate the meeting, Mycroft was unable to voice his displeasure and had to suffer through the anguished crunch a poor piece of cake made as it crumbled under the merciless assault of Sherlock's fork. To Mycroft the sound was worse than nails scraping over the blackboard.

"You seem edgy," Sherlock commented with a smirk.

John, sitting on his right, eyed the brothers nervously. Lestrade, by Mycroft's side, paid more attention to his own chocolate cake.

"Is there something bothering you?" Sherlock inquired with fake concern.

Mycroft shook his head, his mind full of revenge plans.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Another crunch.

Another wince.

"Darling, would you like some cake?"

Mycroft, amused, looked at Lestrade only to notice a piece of chocolate cake held out on a fork for him. Usually not fond of PDA, Mycroft leaned forward and took a piece into his mouth. His lips stretched into a smirk around the fork as he noticed from the corner of his eye John Watson choking on his biscuit.

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><p><strong>AN: **I am bored. And I do take prompts;)


	3. Anniversary

**A/N:** A prompt dialogue only 221B. I probably should warn you, it's incredibly fluffy.

Already a traditional "Thank you" to **JennaEf** for a quick spell-check.

**Prompt:** A sweet idea from **LIGHTNSHADOWS**. "Mycroft having to save the free world (ha,ha)on his and Greg's anniversary, which means he's not even in England"

I do hope you'll like my take on this idea:)

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><p>"Morning, love."<p>

"It's midday already."

"Is it?"

"Gregory…"

"It is morning for me."

"Gregory, please. You know how much I hate it…"

"Mycroft…Mycroft…There is just one thing I wanted to tell you."

"Gregory…"

"No need to sound so resigned."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"But I am."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"You know it's not true."

"Just one thing, Mycroft."

"What is it?"

"You have to smile for me first."

"Stupid. How would you know if I'm actually smiling?"

"I'll feel it."

"That sounded so lame, Gregory."

"I will."

"Sure."

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm simply stating a fact."

"Aha!"

"What? What?"

"_Now_ you are smiling."

"I'm not."

"Do not lie to me, Mycroft Holmes."

"Fine. I've fulfilled my part of the deal. What did you want to say?"

"I love you."

"Gregory, I don't think it's a good time-"

"I love you, Mycroft Holmes. Any time is good to tell your lover how much you love him. Today is a wonderful day. It's such a lovely morning, raining lightly but sun is about to come out soon…"

"Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary. I do love hearing the smile in your voice."

"I love you, too. I'm sorry I can't be with you today."

"You don't hear me complaining, do you? I love you, even miles away from Britain."


	4. Paper Cut

**A/N: **And another prompt from **JennaEf**. Thank you:)

It appears that writing 221B is fun. So don't think I'm going to stop any time soon.

This one is kind of angsty.

**Prompt:** Paper cut

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><p>Mycroft watched a small drop of blood slide down his finger; infinitely slowly it made its way downward, leaving a crimson path on its wake. Impassively, Mycroft followed its progress with his eyes.<p>

The tiny paper cut stung, hurt more than it should; or at least his subconscious told him so, projecting his inner turmoil on the real pain.

"Sir? Should I get the first aid kit?" The concerned voice of Mycroft's PA broke into his thoughts. She was trying not to stare, but was sending him worried glances.

"No," Mycroft replied distractedly, eyes still on the small cut on the pad of his ring finger. "No."

He flexed his hand, clenched it into a fist and unclenched again. It still hurt.

He felt like a fool, comparing such a small thing to the failure that was his life. Not professional life; never professional. But personal. Always too busy with work, Mycroft Holmes never had time for a proper relationship. And when he'd met his 'perfect man' he didn't know how to fight to keep what they had. At times like this Mycroft hated himself.

Timidly, he hoped that not all was lost for them.

He took out a white handkerchief with initials _GL _in the corner and wiped the blood.

He was going to rebuild his life. Bit by bit.


	5. Paper Cut 2

**A/N: **A kind of continuations of the previous part.

Thaks to **JennaEf **for a quick spell-check.

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><p>Some might say that starting a new life is difficult. Mycroft decided that altering one's life in order not to turn everything upside down but still make the difference count was a more challenging task. As a man who always had a plan and a backup plan just in case anything went wrong, Mycroft hated complications. This time they waited him every time he made a life changing decision. But this time those decisions did not concern anyone's life but his own.<p>

Cutting down his working hours, learning to be more attentive to others feelings, getting on with Sherlock…These and a lot other things he was ready to do pull himself from this seemingly infinite circle of work, conspiracies and lies. Mycroft tried to bring the simplicity back into his life. The over-confidence and superiority were all thrown out of the proverbial window to be replaced with the calm confidence.

Mycroft knew that Gregory was right; the position of power had corrupted him, changed the way he viewed the world. Over the years, so used to everyone following his orders, he stopped caring about what people actually thought and felt.

There were going to be more complications on his way, but that was fine. He could deal with it. He will deal with anything to get the man he loved back.


	6. Apple Pie

**Prompt:** From **TadPole11****.** Mycroft hates apple pie.

Also I regard it as a continuation of the previous two parts. Unbeted, so I hope there are not too many terrible mistakes.

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><p>"Mycroft Holmes?"<p>

"Gregory, what a surprise to meet you here." Mycroft hoped he had faked shock well, because there was nothing unexpected in meeting a person you were waiting for for the last hour and a half.

"What are you doing here?" Lestrade asked taking a step closer to Mycroft's table.

"Just enjoying a cup of tea and an apple pie."

"You hate apple pie."

"Yes, well…" Mycroft fidgeted in his seat. "Doesn't mean I can't enjoy it."

Lestrade eyed him suspiciously, as if Mycroft had lost his mind; the other man was tense, fiddling with a teaspoon, lifting his eyes to the DI's and then averting his gaze again.

"It's my lunch break." Mycroft suddenly said, nervously glancing at Lestrade.

"I'm on a break as well."

"What a coincidence." Of course it was nowhere near a coincidence, not after Mycroft carefully planned this 'accidental' meeting. "Would you like to join me?"

He hoped that didn't sound desperate, but to his own ears it revealed just how much he wanted the other man to agree.

Lestrade regarded him in silence for a minute, for the duration of which Mycroft barely resisted averting his eyes, but then he nodded and smiled, and said:

"Yes, I'd love to."

Mycroft smiled at him, feeling slightly light headed and optimistic, and almost ridiculously happy.

"Brilliant."


	7. Raspberry Scones

**A/N: **And again 'Thank you' to **JennaEf **for a spell check and help with this story:)

**Prompt:** From **TadPole11.** Mycroft hates it when the bakery down the street from his office makes raspberry scones.

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><p>It was absolutely maddening. Seriously, it was impossible to work in such conditions. Frustrated, Mycroft threw down his pen and stood up abruptly in order to stand in front of the window behind his desk. Sharply he drew the curtains closed. As if that would help.<p>

Mycroft Holmes was a very hard-working man; he could concentrate and focus despite any distractions. But this, _this_, was too much even for him.

Since two weeks prior a new bakery had opened down the street from his office, work became more difficult than ever. Their raspberry scones that he had misfortune, or fortune (he was still yet to decide), to try on the day of the opening were divine. Since then he had become addicted.

Mycroft hated that bakery and hated their scones, those delicious raspberry scones, the amazing smell of which had reached even his office, stalling all work and breaking his concentration. Gregory, an old sweet-tooth that he was, asked if his lover wanted to have breakfast there. Mycroft refused. His PA, as addicted to them as Mycroft, had suggested going there for lunch. He declined.

A hand on his clock was nearing four now and he couldn't find a will to resist any longer.

He put on his jacket and disregarded his duties in favor of visiting that damned amazing bakery.


	8. St Valentine's Day

**A/N:** 'Thank you' to **JennaEf **for a spell check:)

Without a prompt. Very fluffy.

_Mycroft Holmes hated St. Valentine's Day. He really did... Or maybe not?_

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><p>"What is that?"<p>

"It's a rose."

"It's a…picture of a rose."

"I didn't have a chance to meet you personally today, my dear Mycroft." Lestrade's voice was mocking, the smirk unmistakable in his tone.

"Lovely." Mycroft replied dryly, eyeing a picture of a red rose attached to the email before deleting the message altogether.

Mycroft was not in the mood for his friend's jokes. Valentine's day. Really? What a ridiculous holiday. So of course Lestrade had chosen that day to tease him mercilessly and torture Mycroft with constant reminders of his absolute lack of personal life.

"I knew you'd like it." Lestrade's smug voice cut into his mental flow of loathing. "It proclaims my undying love to you."

Mycroft didn't bother to hear what else the other had to say and hang up, throwing the phone on the table in irritation.

It was only late in the evening as he exited his office and came face to face with Lestrade, leaning against the wall and waiting patiently for Mycroft, a single red rose in his hand, when it suddenly occurred to him that maybe Lestrade was not joking. The thought made a small tentative smile pull at the corners of his lips. Lestrade smiled in return and muttered softy:

"Haven't you figured it out yet? We are simply meant to be."


	9. Sick

**A/N:** A prompt from **akisura12**. Sorry, it took me long to write this. I couldn't get into the right mood to write anything. But, now, here it is.

**Prompt:** Mycroft Holmes hates when Gregory is sick.

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><p>Mycroft hated getting sick. All the weakness and limitations that came with any illness could not be disregarded for long; he had learned it the hard way that one can't work as restlessly as one was used to while being sick or else one might faint right in front of one's political enemy. Since that embarrassing accident it became Mycroft's habit to take care of himself and also insist on the same thing for the people close to him. Though Sherlock never listened to him, Anthea seemed miraculously resistant to any illness and Gregory…Gregory was about to be lectured by his irritated lover.<p>

"You are barely standing."

"I'm fine." Lestrade grumbled out, but the way he swayed on his feet contradicted his words.

"Gregory." Mycroft said. When the other man waved him off he repeated sternly. "Gregory." And then, when his lover's posture sagged and Lestrade leaned onto him heavily. "You need rest. And medicine."

Lestrade gave an unintelligent mumble as an answer. "It's fine. I can take care of myself. I'm used to it."

"Well, no more of that." Mycroft chided gently, embracing his lover with care. He planted a soft kiss to Lestrade's temple, the man's skin feverishly hot under his lips, and muttered softly. "I'm going to take care of you. That's how it is going to be."


	10. Kidnapping

**A/N: **I suddenly realized that I want to write something. So I took one of the older prompts and that's what happened. Kind of mindless.

**Prompt** by **akisura12**: Mycroft Holmes hates when John refuses to cooperate during his weekly kidnapping.

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><p>"John, please do get in."<p>

"No."

"John?"

"I said no."

"John," Mycroft repeated exasperated.

"No."

"John," was said again insistently.

The doctor did not budge from his place on the sidewalk. Mycroft pursed his lips and glared at the stubborn man from his seat inside the black car.

"I'm not allowing you to kidnap me again." John replied, unyielding.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "John, while I'm still asking nicely…"

"So you are just going to grab me, shove into the trunk and drive away?" John asked sarcastically and then froze, probably coming to a conclusion that Mycroft was not above such means.

"I simply want to discuss one small matter."

"Sure," John snorted inelegantly. "That's why you want to keep it a secret from Sherlock."

"Yes," Mycroft glanced around nervously and leaned forward whispering. "Yes, because I want to discuss a birthday party for my brother's birthday."

John's retort died in his throat. "Oh…"

"Now, get in the car before Sherlock notices." Mycroft threw harshly and moved on the backseat to make room for John. As the doctor opened the door he noticed another person in the car.

"Hello, Greg."

"See, I even brought Gregory along." Mycroft commented.

John got inside in silence, feeling quite stupid for his defiance earlier.

"Morning John," Lestrade greeted cheerfully. "Already have ideas for Sherlock's birthday?"


	11. Keeping Tabs

**A/N: **I was in the mood to write something, so I took one of the older prompts. So here is another 221B.

Also I realized that this is the first time I'm making fun of Mycroft's diet. Why haven't I ever done that before?;)

Thank you to **JennaEf** for the spell check:)

**Prompt: **Mycroft hates having to keep tabs on Sherlock. For one day, he turns the cameras off. By** TadPole1**

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><p>Mycroft paced his office, which was more like walking from point A to point B with a considerate distance in between. It took no less than a minute to cross this office. Occasionally his eyes strayed to his phone, lying innocently on the desktop. He hesitated by the desk; his fingers twitched and he made an unconscious step forward. Mycroft caught himself in time and, suppressing a frustrated groan, continued on his way to the other side of the room.<p>

How he hated keeping tabs on his insolent younger brother. Mycroft huffed and clasped his hands behind his back. It served him right, Mycroft thought. Not that Sherlock would notice, but Mycroft had turned the surveillance off for the day. Though after hours of nervous pacing and worrying about what mess had Sherlock managed to get himself into for this short time, he wasn't sure who was at disadvantage in this situation. Mycroft barely resisted from digging out a chocolate bar hidden in his safe and eating away all his worries. No, his strict diet would not allow that, he told himself. Also he would be having lunch with Gregory in half an hour.

He took a calming breath. It did not help.

With an irritated sigh he grabbed the phone to bring the surveillance back. Now, he felt much better.


	12. Stupid

**A/N: **Hello, everyone!

First of all, I now have a tumblr. I'll be posting some stories there, some information about the stories and probably reposting fanart that I like. You can follow me if you'd like:

mysteryismyart . tumblr . com

I'm still working out how to make my blog look pretty, but I wanted to post something there. So I've written this 221B.

Without a prompt, just for fun.

As always, my gratitude to **JennaEf **:)

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><p><em><strong>Stupid<strong>_

"Gregory."

He startled at the sound of his name but did not turn around to greet Mycroft.

"Last night I got a text from you."

Lestrade flinched and, gathering his composure, turned around. Mycroft was standing, relaxed and casual, leaning on his umbrella. A complete opposite of how Lestrade was feeling.

"Huh?" Greg shrugged, faking incomprehension. As if it would help. Mycroft knew him better than anyone, could spot a lie from a mile away.

"Gregory." Mycroft repeated with more force in his voice.

Lestrade did his best not to meet his eyes, avoiding the other man's scrutinizing gaze. A long suffering sigh escaped his lips and along with it a word, "What?"

Mycroft only lifted his eyebrows meaningfully.

"I was drunk last night." Lestrade blurted out. "Very-very drunk."

"So?"

"So…I might have done something stupid?"

"Very-very stupid?"

"Uh-huh."

Mycroft's face stayed completely neutral as he said, "Like send me a confession of love?"

This time Lestrade couldn't hide his wince. Because yes, he had been stupid enough to do that.

"Gregory." On the third time he finally lifted his eyes. Mycroft was as calm as always, but, he was surprised to notice, a soft smile graced his features.

Lestrade frowned, confused. "Why?"

He did not get an answer. What he got was a kiss and a whisper. "My stupid beloved."


	13. Chocolate

**A/N: **I'm in a good mood, I want to write, I want to post.

And I'm taking prompts again! Just, please, keep in mind that the story is supposed to be 221 words long.

Spell-check by **JennaEf**. As always, thank you so much for your help:)

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><p><em><strong>Chocolate<strong>_

Mycroft Holmes hated chocolate with all the power of his eternal soul. Dark, milk and white, aerated or not. One word, so much behind it. Chocolate.

Mycroft had not had any chocolate for years. As a man who had been such a chubby child at seven he could not indulge in all those pleasantries of life without the risk of getting chubby at forty. That would not suit him.

But chocolate…chocolate was the most difficult to deny himself. Mycroft had cravings, terrible days when he felt like he could die for a bite of chocolate.

Imagine his turmoil when he saw Lestrade in his kitchen, eating away a box of chocolates. After greeting his lover he neared the table cautiously, trying not to look at the box. It was inhumanly difficult. Oh, the temptation. One glance and he would be lost forever.

Instead he focused on Gregory.

"Hey," the DI said through a mouthful of chocolate. "How was your day?"

"Fine." Chocolate. So distracting.

"Want some?" A chocolate was offered to him.

"I think I'd like something else." He smirked at his own idea. "Something different."

He moved forward and sealed their lips together, pushing his tongue into his lover's mouth. A reach bitter taste was like a drink of water to a thirsty man. This way chocolate tasted even better.

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><p><strong>AN: **Repeating myself, but I have tumblr now. Tumblr is cool:)

mysteryismyart . tumblr . com


	14. Losing

**A/N: **Unbeted, sorry I had an urge to write something and post immediately.

Also, I accept prompts for 221B. Because I'm bored and I'm in a mood for writing drabbles:)

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><p><em><strong>Losing<strong>_

It was not unexpected that Mycroft Holmes was a sore loser. He absolutely hated losing, especially to Sherlock; his wounded pride could never stand all the taunting. It had been that way since childhood, since the moment his little brother learnt how to insult people – which happened surprisingly early.

But then, later in his life, came a moment when he realized that there were times when he did not mind losing an argument. At least this one special time.

He looked down at his hands as Harry said: "Told you he'd be _The One_." His voice dropped down a little for dramatic effect and Mycroft huffed at the teasing.

"So what?"

"_You_ were the one persuading _me_ that it was just a fling."

"So what?" He repeated, looking up.

"Nothing." Harry said calmly with a small smile. "Just want you to admit that…" He trailed away, looking pointedly at his friend, expecting Mycroft to finish the phrase.

Mycroft sighed. "I was wrong."

Harry smiled. "See, not so difficult."

Mycroft would have loved to say something snide in return but he felt too happy to be annoyed. His gaze strayed back to his left hand. "Gregory is the one." Mycroft admitted, watching the golden band glint on his finger.

Thinking about _him_ always made Mycroft happy. Gregory Lestrade, his husband to be.

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><p><strong>AN: **Hope, it's ot too fluffy:)

By the way, if someone was confused, Harry is a character from A Scandal In Belgravia.


	15. Compliments

**A/N: **Still in the mood for fluff. Still writing 221B stories.

Also I think I've written a drabble with the same name before, but the theme is different this time.

And once again, dear readers, I now have a tumblr and I also post my stories there:

mysteryismyart . tumblr . com

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><p><em><strong>Compliments<strong>_

"You look wonderful."

"Gregory, please." Mycroft scoffed at the praise. Compliments, how he hated them. Never truthful and always over the top.

"What?" The DI asked, truthfully curious.

"I look just as I do every day."

"Well, true." Greg relented. "You always look good."

Mycroft looked away from his smiling face, preferring to ignore the compliment if he couldn't stop his lover from making it.

It was in the evening of the same day when Greg muttered "You are beautiful," before kissing him and Mycroft felt a surge of irritation. But there was no way of telling his lover that compliments only made him feel worse – Greg believed he could change that. He simply returned the kiss and tugged Greg's shirt off.

Mycroft could forgive the man anything when he was kissed like that. Soon the annoyance was forgotten, overshadowed by passion and love.

"You are-"

"Don't," he interrupted before Greg could say anything else.

Greg chuckled and trailed gentle kisses down his neck. "Later then."

Mycroft wanted to protest, but his thoughts were diverted; he allowed himself to drawn in the soft caresses, heated touches and passionate kisses.

Later, as he was drifting to sleep just as the sun was getting up and lighting up the bedroom, he heard Greg whisper to him something that finally made him smile. "Beautiful."


	16. Sports

_**Sports**_

If anyone asked, Mycroft hated sports. If it was Gregory Lestrade who asked the question, the answer would be 'I'm not that into sports and prefer to keep myself in shape by different methods'. If Sherlock mocked him for having a soft spot for the DI, Mycroft would just ignore the comments quietly.

There was only one thing about sports that he liked. He hated running, always getting out of breath too soon, hated doing push-ups, never strong enough, he was fine with swimming but not when it involved exhausting oneself. Watching sports was much better than participating, but not interesting enough to keep his attention for long.

And still, one thing could make him lose his train of thoughts and capture his attention – that was Gregory Lestrade doing push-up, running around and, oh yes, swimming. Such a delicious sight – one he could watch for all eternity.

There were times when he was sure that Gregory knew he was watching and that gave him hope, somewhere deep down in his mind where his fantasies lived. He never knew what was going to happen when it came to Gregory, which was a good thing. It gave him a hope of something unexpected but desirable happening.

But for now he'd just settle for watching. It was always a pleasure to watch that body.

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><p><strong>AN: **If you like this series, please review:)

And you can also follow me on tumblr: mysteryismyart . tumblr . com


	17. Cupboard

**A/N: **This is kind of pointless, but I like it.

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><p><em><strong>Cupboard<strong>_

"What's your favorite book?"

Mycroft glanced sideways at Lestrade. When the DI only lifted his eyebrows in inquiry, he asked. "Really? We are locked in the cupboard and that's what you say?"

"Not like we have anything else to talk about." Lestrade shrugged.

Mycroft stared at him, incredulous.

"Well, then we can discuss why did Sherlock do this?" Lestrade waved his hand vaguely, indicating the whole cupboard.

"He locked us here so we won't follow him on the investigation."

"I knew that."

"Why did you ask?" God, the man was confusing.

"To keep conversation going."

"You don't have to." Mycroft reassured hastily. "Silence is perfectly fine."

And silence he got, for about thirty seconds. How Mycroft hated confined spaces.

"Are you single?" Lestrade suddenly asked.

"How is that relevant?"

"It's not. Just…wondering."

Mycroft wasn't sure how to react to that. Was the DI flirting with him? Or was he just socializing? Mycroft was not very good with all this…social thing. He shrugged. "Single."

Lestrade nodded, committing the knowledge to the memory as if it held some significant importance. Mycroft glanced at him again, considering. "What about you?" The DI was certainly an attractive man. He didn't really grate on his brother's nerves that much, which probably meant he was a nice person.

"Single."

Good, Mycroft thought. "So what's your favorite book?"


	18. Goodbye

**A/N: **Another 221B. Also, I'm reminding you that I'm bored and I take prompts for 221B stories. Even in a form of one word;)

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><p><em><strong>Goodbye<strong>_

"Well, I'm going." Greg said and Mycroft only nodded in answer. His lover stood in the doorway for a moment before adding. "You know, leaving."

Mycroft nodded again, silent. Gregory hesitated. "See you later."

A nod.

"Goodbye." That also earned him just another nod from Mycroft. "Don't you want to say anything?"

"What?" He asked, feigning puzzlement.

Greg looked back at him pointedly, holding his gaze and waiting. Mycroft did not want to give in, but it seemed that this time he could not get away with it. How he hated saying goodbye. Every time it made him irrationally sad and just a bit lonely. He usually took a childish way and refused to do so.

"Mycroft." But lately Greg got irritated with the way Mycroft simply ignored him every time he took his leave. "Just say it." When Mycroft refused he came back into the office. "Please."

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he could not get them out. Greg's beautiful hazel eyes watched him calmly.

"Don't worry." Greg said and leaned over the desk to kiss him softly. "Trust me."

Mycroft looked back at him, so earnest and sweet. A man he loved wholeheartedly, a man who loved him back. With a gentle kiss he gathered his courage and with a loving smile said. "Bye."


	19. Sunlight

_****_**A/N: **I can't stop writing 221B stories...

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><p><em><strong>Sunlight<strong>_

There were times when Mycroft Holmes hated the Sun. That big ball of light that disturbed his sleep on rare mornings he had a chance to sleep in. At moments like that he contemplated talking to the researches working on the space program to do something about it; destroy the sun, for example. Of course, after a cup of tea during breakfast he usually brushed the idea off as a ridiculous one.

But at that moment he was cringing and turning around in his bed, burrowing his head under the pillow. Who needed the Sun?

Mycroft had worked late into the night until Gregory had dragged him out of the office. The remaining part of the night was definitely more pleasant but no less exhausting.

He heard the door to his bedroom open, then the bed dipped and a soft kiss was pressed to the nape of his neck – the only piece of skin not hidden by the blankets. "Good morning." His lover whispered.

"Is it?" He mumbled. Mycroft turned around, looking up at him. Gregory was the only person allowed to see him like this: sleepy and rumpled.

"Yes." Gregory assented, kissing him on the lips this time. This was a much better way to wake up than to a glare of the merciless sun. "Get up. I made breakfast."


	20. His Voice

**A/N: **It seems my light case of author's block ended today! I watched a couple of Sherlock episodes, got inspired, wrote a oneshot. I'm very happy that I don't need to sit and stare at the half empty word files, trying to come up with something.

Also today's 221B is loosely based on my thoughts considering Rupert Graves' voice.

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><p><em><strong>His Voice<strong>_

It might have been considered odd, but Mycroft's life was full of unbelievable things so having a love/hate relationship with another person's voice was not out of the norm. Who could blame him when it was a voice like that…Low, slightly raspy from smoking but not too rough and yet gentle and soothing. That amazing voice did terrible things to Mycroft's body.

That was a reason to love it and that was a reason to hate it.

"Mycroft!" That very voice broke his reverie. How he made a stress on 'y' and accentuated the 'r' with a slight growl…Mycroft closed his eyes involuntary to savor the sound. "Mycroft!"

"What is it, Gregory?"

"Your brother is annoying."

Mycroft fought a shiver running down his spine; Lestrade always sounded so sensual when he was angry.

"Isn't he always?"

Gregory snorted and even that small sound was arousing. Mycroft lifted his eyes from the paper to look at him. That man's voice and the sight of him would be his undoing one day. Mycroft could not wait for that day to come soon enough. He smirked, his imagination running wild unrestricted.

"Mycroft?" Again he was brought back from his fantasy by the very man it evolved around. This time his voice was softer.

Oh, he'd give anything to hear that voice in his bedroom.


	21. Housework

**A/N: **Finally a prompt! Great thanks to **Trakrat **for it:)

**Prompt:** housework

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><p><em><strong>Housework<strong>_

Living with another person could be amazing: waking up to your lover's face, having dinner and watching TV together – all those small lovely things. Mycroft had some time to himself when Gregory was away on a case but he also had those cherished moments when he could welcome his lover home.

And then there were times when living together was horrible. Mycroft hated housework; he never cooked, preferring to go out, he rarely cleaned, partly because he usually put things on their rightful places when he did not need them anymore, partly because having been growing up in a wealthy family he had a maid for that.

Gregory had a habit of throwing his clothes all over the place. He would enter the flat, call out to Mycroft and take his jacket off. By the time Mycroft would meet him in the corridor his jacket would be already thrown to the floor. Mycroft would frown, a reprimand on the tip of his tongue, but he'd be cunningly distracted with a kiss. Gentle but with longing of a whole day spent apart and the passion simmering just under the surface, ready to ignite a fire.

Gregory's tie would be the next one off, a stripe of red on the cream carpet. But there were times when Mycroft could just let it be.

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><p><strong>AN:** Tell me what you think about this series ;)


	22. Driving

**A/N: **Another story written as a prompt from **Trakrat: **driving.

I feel a little unsure about this 221B, but I hope it turned out fine. I guess it's kind of pre-first meeting drabble.

Thanks to **JennaEf**for a spell check:)

* * *

><p><em><strong>Driving<strong>_

There was a black car, his PA in a backseat, the front seat empty. Mycroft's driver had broken his arm minutes before and the substitute wouldn't be there fast enough to take him to his next meeting. Which left him with only one option. Mycroft cringed at the idea of having to drive by himself. He hated driving.

He was at a crime scene, policemen wondering around but none of them trustworthy enough to be allowed to drive him to his meeting place. Nonetheless Mycroft's gaze searched the crowd in a desperate attempt to see any familiar face.

"Sir?" His PA got out of the car, unnerved by his reluctance to get to the driver's seat.

Mycroft sighed. How he didn't want to do that…

He glanced at PA and frowned as he noticed her eyes fixed further away just above his shoulder.

"I think I've got a solution." She smiled slyly.

Mycroft followed her gaze to notice a figure of DI Lestrade, a man he knew from the multiple surveillance reports on his brother but had never met in person. "You think we can trust him?"

"Oh yes," his PA replied with a little too much enthusiasm. "I'll take care of it."

The woman left the car and sauntered to the DI's direction. Mycroft smiled and settled on the backseat.


	23. Movies

**A/N: **Once again one of the many prompts by **Trakrat**: movies.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Movies<strong>_

It was the exact type of place Mycroft usually avoided. He couldn't believe that he voluntary agreed to come here – it was all Gregory's bad influence.

"Why are you just standing there?" Gregory asked with a smile, he was perfectly aware that his lover wished to be anywhere else that evening. With a hand on the small of Mycroft's back Gregory guided him inside. "Come on." He whispered reassuringly.

Reluctantly, Mycroft allowed to be steered inside the movie theatre. People bustled about, speaking too enthusiastically and too loudly, kids ran around, screaming in delight and waving their hands erratically, air smelled of sweet popcorn. Mycroft fought a wince and stepped closer to his lover. If it was inevitable that someone would be crowding his personal space it'd better be Gregory.

"Relax," the man muttered into his ear. "Stop noticing all the bad things and just enjoy."

Mycroft was skeptical, doubting he'd be able to enjoy a trip to the movies, no matter what his lover claimed otherwise. Nonetheless he willed himself to relax and to at least try to have fun.

Mycroft's body molded into the other man's side, Gregory's hand encircling his waist.

After all, his lover was right. It might be a pleasant experience if it was Gregory his mind was occupied with. Yes, focus only on the best.


	24. Five Seconds

**A/N: **I had so much fun with this prompt! Wrote the story the same day I got it and had to keep myself from posting it right away. Can't do that, have to keep the pace: one 221B a day

The prompt from thelilyandtheros. Thank you :D

**Prompt: **five second rule. (I hope I got the meaning right).

* * *

><p><em><strong>Five Seconds<strong>_

With horror Mycroft saw a strawberry from the top of his chocolate cake tumble to the floor. In disgust he watched his lover quickly lean, snatch it from the floor and put in in his mouth.

"Gregory!" Mycroft exclaimed, scandalized, as he watched the man munch happily on the strawberry.

"What?" The DI shrugged when he finished. "Five seconds."

"That's," Sherlock's voice had risen louder than annoyed mutter for the first time that evening. He cringed. "Disgusting."

"No, it's not." Gregory waved him off carelessly.

"Yes it is." Mycroft said; once in a while he did agree with his brother.

"It's five seconds rule." John explained, he sounded strangely reasonable. "It's fine."

Wide eyed, Sherlock turned to look at him. "Disgusting," he repeated emphatically.

"You are too fastidious," the doctor commented, more interested in his apple pie than in the conversation.

Sherlock huffed and turned away from him, addressing his brother: "Mycroft, your lover is disgusting."

Mycroft glanced and Gregory who gave him a charming smile and a peck on the cheek to redeem himself. It was a miracle that Mycroft could forgive him practically anything when the man was looking at him like that. With a happy sigh he turned to his brother. "Yes, he is."

Sherlock snorted, pleased with himself.

Mycroft smirked as he continued, "So is yours. Beware."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Tomorrow's drabble: noisy neighbors.


	25. Noisy Neighbours

**A/N: **Just before posting I realized that I misread the prompt. It stated 'nosy neighbours' but I wrote a story 'noisy neighbours'. Sorry, the next drabble will be for the right prompt.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Noisy <strong>__**Neighbours**_

Mycroft had a time consuming and exhausting job, one that he absolutely loved and wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Coming back home worn out was surely a downside though. So at home, one thing Mycroft wanted the most was peace and quiet, and maybe some love from his caring lover. Gregory was amazing like that. Unfortunately others did hold much regard to what Mycroft wanted.

"I suggest we call the police." He said, barely containing his irritation, which was slowly turning into a slow burning anger.

"I'm the police," Gregory replied with a chuckle.

"Well, my brave Detective Inspector, can you go upstairs and give my neighbours a serous talking to?"

In his tired state, brimming on irritation, any loud noise grated on Mycroft's nerves; and the people living upstairs were too fond of loud music very late at night.

"I have a better idea." His lover muttered as his hands unhurriedly settled on Mycroft's hips.

"Gregory," Mycroft started but was silenced with a kiss. He wanted to say that he had a terrible day at work, that he was tired and he had to get up early the next day…But his exhaustion was eventually swept away by passion as Gregory's lips caressed his own and his hand wandered lower.

"For once, let's be the noisy neighbours."

"Let's be."


	26. Nosy Neightbours

**A/N: **Now here is the right story for a prompt from TankGrrrl.

**Prompt:** nosy neightbours

* * *

><p>Mycroft watched, eyes narrowed, as the woman across the street watched him. They were the new people in that neighbourhood, bound to attract attention, but Mycroft hoped that the interest would fade with time. Unfortunately, it didn't.<p>

Sometimes Mycroft wondered if it was because they were the only same sex couple on the whole street, or because of the inconspicuous black car that took him to work and brought him home in any hours of the night. That surely was a reason for some rumors. The fact that Gregory was a DI didn't lessen their suspicion. Frankly, Mycroft did not care. Still, sometimes, it bothered him.

Gregory always told him not to pay any mind to them. Mycroft knew that he had to make an effort to establish a good relationship with their neighbours but their glances and forward questions were too bothersome, a necessity to evade the truth when answering their questions too tiring. Gregory took it upon himself to socialize; he enjoyed it and didn't mind spending his free time around their new acquaintances.

Once Mycroft entertained the idea of threatening those nosy neighbours but his lover wouldn't be pleased with that.

In the end, it did matter. What mattered was their new house in a lovely place, peaceful and quiet, and their future life together. A pure bliss.


	27. Economy Class

**A/N: **I am aware that Mycroft and Gregory could not have been in the same class but for the sake of this story they are.

It's short (well, it is a 221B) and fluffy. Another prompt from **TankGrrrl**.

**Prompt:** economy class

* * *

><p><em><strong>Economy Class<strong>_

Mycroft hated economy class. It was boring; the teacher didn't care for his students' behaviour and went on with his lecture regardless of their attention. Which meant that not only he had to suffer an economy class he also could get no knowledge from it since there was no chance to hear what the teacher was saying above the constant hum of conversation around.

Mycroft sighed and leaned back in his seat when suddenly a folded piece of paper landed on his desk. He glanced at the side – Gregory was grinning and nodding his head emphatically. Tentatively, Mycroft reached for the paper, unfolding it to read a message inside.

_Is this your last class for today?_

Mycroft glanced at him and nodded discreetly. Next moment another note landed on his desk.

_Then let's go to my place after this torture is over._

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he read the message, a small blush appeared on his cheeks. He willed himself to breathe slowly to calm down and only then half turned to Gregory to give him another nod. Gregory smiled in return, a little shyly but brightly.

Mycroft turned away but his attention was diverted again with one more note.

_Love you_.

With a tender smile he thought that he too loved his boyfriend.


	28. Mud

**Announcement: **In a couple of days I'm leaving and I'll be away for almost two weeks. I'll have an access to the Internet but I'll only be using it from my phone. Which means I'll not be updating. I'll update tomorrow, though I can't promise it would be a prompt drabble.

This 221B is for a prompt given by **thelilyandtheros**. Also, concerning your other two prompts, I'll definitely write those drabbles (the prompts are actually very interesting!), but I think I'll be working on them after I return. I hope you don't mind waiting.

**Prompt:** mud

**Edited 7/17/2012 **because I'm an idiot. I've been writing this story in the evening and I was tired and I missed a huge mistake. Only in the morning I realized that the drabble that I posted was not a 221B. The last word did not end with 'b'. I'm terribly sorry. Yesterday it seemed perfectly fine that the last word ended with 'b', and I didn't even think that it should _start_ with that latter. So today I edited the story so that it now ends with a word starting with 'b'. Once again, I'm very sorry!

* * *

><p>It was raining. In the middle of summer. Though Mycroft should not be surprised. Water poured from the above and there was water under his feet, water and mud. How Mycroft hated mud and dirt, straining his clothes in any weather.<p>

Gregory claimed he was fastidious. Mycroft smiled and ignored his comments – Gregory usually liked pointing out his flaws. That's why they never got along, the DI thinking Mycroft to be a snob and Mycroft calling him a slob in return. Sherlock sarcastically commented that they'd make a lovely couple. They laughed at that and averted their eyes.

So it came as a surprise to all of them when on one rainy evening Gregory grabbed Mycroft by the lapels of his coat, dragging closer and kissing him. There was no hesitation in Mycroft's response. Momentarily he wondered where did this passion come from, but all thoughts were swept away from his head as Gregory's strong hands tilted his face gently and the DI deepened the kiss. Mycroft's own hands found purchase on his hips, gripping tightly as his knees grew weak. Rain poured over them and the splashes of mud strained their clothes, but Mycroft didn't notice. All his thoughts were consumed by one wonderful person.

Maybe they do make a lovely couple after all, a snob and a slob. Brilliant.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I've got a couple reviews from an unregistered reader, a guest, and I have no other way to reply to them. I'm sorry I'm taking the space here, but there are a few things I need to say.

So, a review reply to Catrina Marlow:

First of all, PDA stands for public display of affection. Sorry, I was sure it was pretty well known. Secondary, concerning chapter 14. Yes, Harry from A Scandal In Belgravia is the Royal Equerry. This fics are 221B so I'm not going to waste a word on any explanations and descriptions unless they are absolutely necessary. In that drabble even the name of the character is unimportant; I put Harry there simply because I prefer useing already existing characters to introducing my own OCs. The place is also irrelevant. I'm leaving that up to readers' imagination, since as it had been mentioned for some many times in this series that those are 221B fics. The word limit can be pressing sometimes. Also I have to say that they couldn't be in the Diogenes Club.

I hope you'll see this review reply and that you still enjoyed this 221B drabbles.


	29. Harry Potter

**A/N: **I'm back from my trip, I had an amazing time in a place where the sea is actually warm, unlike in Saint-Petersburg where I live.

Also I'm back to writing. I'd say it's pretty amusing how I spent a whole moth bemoaning my lack of prompts and only a couple of people responded, but then I'm away for a week and a half and I get so many prompts. Anyway, I'm grateful for them and I'm planning to fulfill them, but right now I'm trying to fall back into my routine of writing a 221B a day. It's not as easy as I hoped it would be. Especially since I'm leaving again in a week.

**Prompt: **Harry Potter (because Greg fancies Daniel Radcliffe) from **thelilyandtheros**. I hope you like the way I turned this prompt.

Also I took some liberties with when and where Equus was shown. I don't know if it was in UK or not, but if not let's pretend that it was;)

* * *

><p>With all his heart Mycroft hated Harry Potter; mostly because of his lover's obsession with it, or more precisely Greg's obsession with Daniel Radcliffe. Mycroft would never admit to being jealous of a young, admittedly gorgeous, actor but he wouldn't say he wasn't bothered by it either.<p>

Mycroft loved theatre but Greg had once announced that it was a complete waste of time. Mycroft remembered the moment clearly and had not tried to ask his lover to accompany him to a play even once. But this, this might be his chance. Who wouldn't want to see a handsome young man undressed on stage? Well, not Mycroft surely, but other people were enjoying it, so maybe this would help him lure Greg into the theatre.

"I'd feel like an old pervert." Was the first thing Greg told him when Mycroft slid Equus tickets to him across the table. Mycroft frowned. That was not the reaction he expected.

"I was hoping this will persuade you to go to the theatre with me."

"No way I'm going to see that." Greg shook his head. At Mycroft's put out expression he said. "We can go see something else, if you want."

"But you hate theatre."

"So that's what this is about…" He gestured to the tickets with a smile. "I'll do anything for you, beautiful."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Not sure how I feel about this 221B, but I hope you like it :)


	30. Umbrella

**A/N:** And I am back again. I spent an amazing week and a half in Spain, but now I am back home, where it is cold and rainy most of the time. Which means I am back to writing 221B prompt stories. I have some prompts piled up and am going to work on them. Here is the first.

**Prompt: **from**Boxerbee**. "supposedly "cooler" umbrellas than his (Mycroft's)"

* * *

><p>"Oh no, it's raining again."<p>

"Shouldn't you be used to it?" Mycroft glanced over his morning paper at Gregory who was getting ready to head out.

"Doesn't mean I like it, though."

Mycroft lowered his eyes back to the page; he heard a rustle of clothing – his lover putting his coat on. Then he heard Gregory swear softly and say. "I'll borrow your umbrella, if you don't mind. Mine is in the office."

"Sure," Mycroft replied mindlessly and only when he heard a soft rattle of wood on wood as the umbrella was lifted from the umbrella-stand by the door, his head snapped up as he shouted, "No!"

Gregory glanced at him, confused.

"Don't take this umbrella."

His lover frowned, "If you don't want anyone touching it you should just say so. No need to shout like that."

"Gregory," Mycroft leaned forward in his seat. "Please, take your finger off that button and put the umbrella down. Very carefully."

Lestrade's frown deepened. "I think you are overreacting."

"Gregory." Mycroft stared at him sternly.

"Fine, fine. Here, putting it down. Happy?"

Mycroft breathed out a sigh of relief. "This umbrella is only for special occasions."

"Like what?" Gregory snorted.

"An assassination attempt, maybe. Also some inconvenient leakage of deadly gas…"

Ignoring Gregory's incredulous stare, Mycroft returned to reading his paper. "Anything, basically."


	31. Orange

**A/N: **I'm sorry that sometimes I deviate from the original Mycroft Holmes Hates theme, but sometimes when I get inspiration for yet another prompt I get so caught up in it, I forget about the 'hate' part.

**Prompt:** form **insertwittynicknamehere**. "Orange (the fruit or the color)"

* * *

><p>"Honey, are you okay?" Gregory's voice broke into his thoughts.<p>

"Hm?"

"You've been staring into that box for five minutes."

"Just…" Mycroft reached into the box tentatively and picked up one bright orange sock. "What is this?"

"Do you really want me to give you the obvious answer?" Gregory asked with a smile as he stepped closer to his lover.

Mycroft sent him an annoyed sideway glance. "It's hideous." He held the sock between his thumb and forefinger.

"They are clean, you know." Gregory grumbled. "No need to hold them like that."

"It does not make them any less hideous, Gregory."

"What's wrong with them?"

"They are _orange_." Mycroft replied emphatically. "Bright orange."

"It's a nice color." Gregory shrugged and took the sock from Mycroft's hand. "These are my favorite pair." He picked the other sock from the box and took the pair to hide in the drawer. "Get used to it," he threw over his shoulder. "This pair of socks is living here now."

Gregory sent his lover a smile as he shut the drawer with a flourish. "Just like am."

"You I do not find hideous."

"Well, I'm glad you don't." Gregory chuckled as Mycroft came up to him. "Else we wouldn't be moving in together."

"Oh, that would be truly terrible," Mycroft said kissing him. "Very, very bad."


	32. Olympic Games

**A/N: **I skipped some of the prompts that I had from the same person who gave me the previous one ("Orange"). I just wanted to fulfill one prompt for each reader first and then go back to other prompts, because I usually get more than one prompt from one reader.

**Prompt from ****Aillil**: "Olympics games (because yeah, organising that must be an absolute nightmare)".

* * *

><p>"Finally," Mycroft breathed out a heavy sigh of relief as he collapsed on the sofa. "It's over."<p>

Gregory chuckled as he settled on his left with more care. "You look like you've just stopped a war."

"Worse," Mycroft replied gravely.

"No, it's not." Gregory put his palm on the back of Mycroft's neck and massaged the stiff muscles gently. "It's just the Olympic games."

"For you." Mycroft let out a content sigh as Gregory's fingers kneaded a knot at the base of his spine. "For me – it's a nightmare."

"Which is over." The DI reminded.

"Thankfully…All the organization, the security…" Mycroft's head fell onto his lover's shoulder. "Making sure nothing goes wrong. Dealing with any security or international problems…" His voice drifted to a whisper as he relaxed.

"I'm sure the people of the world are grateful for your hard work."

"Even though they don't know about it?"

A soft kiss was pressed to his forehead. "You made an amazing job."

Gregory's hand gently slid around his shoulders, pressing him closer to the warmth of the man who loved him. It was calming and relaxing; Mycroft felt himself drifting to sleep.

"You are great, Mycroft." Gregory muttered into his hair. "The most wonderful man I have ever met." A kiss was pressed to his temple. "So strong." Another kiss. "So brave."


	33. Rumors

**Prompt from Fangirl**: "Rumors (About the Royal Family or Mycroft)"

* * *

><p>This is ridiculous, Mycroft thought as he closed his eyes briefly and breathed out slowly. Absolutely ridiculous. His eyes focused back on the elderly woman in front of him. She was smiling pleasantly and congratulating him:<p>

"I was so happy to hear about your engagement. We, old girls," she giggled as she referred to her friends. "Thought you'd be single forever."

Mycroft nodded tensely and excused himself. The moment he turned around the very reason of his current irritation fell into step by his side.

"Are they doing it again?" Greg asked with a chuckle.

Mycroft glared at him.

"This time you did not deny our engagement though."

"I hate rumors." Mycroft said harshly. "Never in my life I'd agree to marry you."

Greg only laughed harder at his distress. "Come on," he lightly touched the small of Mycroft's back, steering them both away from another excited old lady. "You like me."

"Clearly, you are not as good detective as you claim since you fail to see that the only feeling I hold for you is contempt."

Greg laughed again, a sound light and beautiful, and Mycroft had to avert his eyes in order not to betray his nervousness.

"Don't worry, dear." Greg said, his tone was teasing but also gentle, more playful than mocking. "You'd make a lovely blushing bride."


	34. Birds

**A/N:** Two prompts with one story. Is that cheating? To be fair though, the prompts were almost identical:)

**Prompt**:

From **insertwittynicknamehere "**birds (or fish, if you prefer)" – So I prefer birds.

From **Phantomhawk "**pigeons(or any other loud and annoying bird)" – I'm not sure pigeons are that loud, so I took sparrows because in my opinion they can be much louder and thus more annoying.

* * *

><p>Mycroft groaned and burrowed his head further under the pillow. It worked to diminish the sound only a little – loud screeching of the birds outside his window. The light streaming through the thin curtains and the light summer wind were very pleasant but those birds, those stupid sparrows – they were everywhere, the flapping of their wings and the high sound of their squeaking impossible to ignore. Mycroft shifted again, attempting to block the sound.<p>

"Stop squirming," a hoarse voice mumbled into his neck and a hand around his waist tightened . "Go back to sleep."

"Can't."

A soft kiss was pressed to the back of his neck. "Sleep."

"Greg," Mycroft muttered, his voice full of suffering. "Those birds…"

"Don't pay attention to them."

"How can I not? They are too loud…The government should reconsider a ban on the carrying of firearms for policemen."

"I will not be shooting birds just for your convenience."

"What had happened to your promise to always make me happy?" Mycroft turned, removing the pillow from his face, to glance at his lover petulantly.

"You did not read the small script." Greg joked and used their new position to kiss Mycroft on the lips. "It should not involve violence. Unless it concerns your brother." Greg kissed him again. "Better let me distract you from the damned birds."


	35. St John Ambulance 1

**A/N**: Finally fulfilling this prompt. At least now I know what St. John ambulance is, after the person who gave me this prompt nicely explained me everything I needed. Still, I might have messed up something about ambulances; my knowledge of him is only based on movies.

Also there is a second part to this drabble.

**Prompt **from **theLilyandtheRose: **"st john ambulance"

* * *

><p>There were only two times in his life when Mycroft felt terrified. First when his father was dying and the second when Sherlock had an overdose.<p>

As his shaking fingers pressed the nine on his phone for three times those events ran through his mind before it focused back on Gregory lying prone on the pavement, a knife wound in his chest, a spot of crimson blooming on his white shirt.

_Mycroft was terrified._

His other hand kept pressing on the wound in a futile attempt to stop the blood. Gregory was unconscious but still breathing. It gave Mycroft hope.

Mycroft's fear grew as he noticed a St. John ambulance heading in their direction. He should have phoned Anthea first, she'd have made sure Gregory would get the best medical care but he did not want to waste time on that. Now he'd have to put the life of the person he loved into the hands of medical students, trusting them to save Gregory. The anxiety grew into terror.

He clang to Gregory's hand as the wounded man was transferred onto the stretcher and transported into the ambulance van.

Mycroft slumped on a bench inside of the van, exhausted and scared. His sight was a blur of bloody hands and medical equipment. The sound in his ears was the irregular beeping.


	36. St John Ambulance 2

**A/N:** The second part. I decided to post in on the same day. I think this might be the end or maybe I'll come up with a hospital scene.

Also I suppose Mycroft might be considered OOC here but since we've never seen him in such a situation it'd be hard to predict his reaction.

* * *

><p>His vision blurred, hands shook and whole body trembled; every sound too loud – urgent voices of medical students and the beeping of a heart monitor. Hope was the only thing keeping him sane. Right up to the moment when Gregory flat lined.<p>

The van shook and Mycroft almost fell when he stood up sharply. A hand across his chest shoved him back into his seat and some girl, a young doctor, asked him to stay away as he colleagues attempted to revive Gregory.

Mycroft tasted salt of his own tears as they slid down his cheeks and copper of blood where he bit his lip. His vision was solely focused on Gregory's face; skin was sickly pale and eyes closed. This was one thing that distracted him from the fact that Gregory's heart had stopped beating seconds before.

On a verge of hyperventilating Mycroft reached tentatively, careful not to get in the way of doctors trying to revive his lover, he reached out to grasp the man's hand. Cold and unresponsive, it still grounded him, kept focused on the moment and did not let his mind dive into panic. It was a terrifying moment while he waited and the young doctors tried and tried to save their patient.

Mycroft gasped in silent relief when Gregory finally took in a ragged breath.


	37. St John Ambulance 3

**A/N:** And, it seems, I can't stay away from this plot. Also, once again, my knowledge of the hospitals comes only from the movies.

* * *

><p>It was quiet for the first time in the last hour; long hectic hour during which he waited for the ambulance to come, for the medics to revive Gregory when his heart stopped on the way to the hospital, for the surgery to be over. A minute ago a nurse informed him that the operation was over but his lover was still to regain consciousness.<p>

_It's not over yet_, was the only thought running through Mycroft's head. _Not over yet._

He regained his composure, more or less, while waiting for the surgery to end; but even though on the outside he looked like a sane calm man, his inner turmoil was still raging on. His hands still trembled as he ran them through his hair and he felt sick to his stomach.

Anthea phoned, looking for him, but Mycroft only asked to cancel all his meetings and hang up. She was worried, being left in the dark, but he knew that his PA wouldn't try to interfere if he did not want that. What Mycroft wanted was for Gregory to wake up, but since that was not in his powers to arrange, he wanted to be left alone to wait.

He knew Gregory was strong enough to get through this.

The only thing left for Mycroft was to wait and believe.


	38. St John Ambulance 4

**A/N:** And this is the end to these small impromptu series.

* * *

><p>The hospital room was just like any other – almost empty and with a bed in the middle, all pastel colors, annoyingly peaceful, the smell of medication... Once there was Mycroft's father in a room like this, lying in a bed just like this. Then it was Sherlock, though that time what Mycroft's mind concentrated on was his thrashing and cursing at the nurses. This time is was Gregory Lestrade.<p>

He was still pale but his skin was not the same transparent white as it was in the ambulance; he was wearing a hospital gown and his wound had been bandaged so there was not even a spot of blood in sight. It calmed Mycroft a little.

Gregory's eyes were open; his pupils followed Mycroft's movements as the man stepped into the room and came up to the bed.

Mycroft reached out and took Gregory's hand in his carefully. The other man gave him a weak smile.

Mycroft was exhausted, physically and mentally; finally the events of the day were catching up with him. There was a pricking at his eyes and as he tried to blink it away a stray tear made its way down his cheek. His throat felt tight; he wanted to say something but could not find the words.

"Hey," Gregory said, squeezing his fingers lightly. "I'm back."


	39. Glasses

**A/N:** Some fluff after the angst of the last days. Also first 221B from Lestrade's POV.

**Prompt** from **Phantomhawk-writer: **"glasses...(because greg thinks they make people look smarter)"

* * *

><p>Aristocratic features, a long thin nose, high cheekbones, kissable mouth – lips not full but soft and pink and so enticing. Hair smoothed back except for a few wayward strands on his temple, silky to the touch. Beautiful blue eyes, even more sharp when surrounded by the black rims of the glasses.<p>

"Gregory?" A voice calls his name but he is too fascinated to react properly.

"Gregory?" More insistent this time and it finally brings him back from his daydreaming.

"Huh?"

"You have been staring at me." Mycroft states and there is no objection, because that's exactly what Greg had been doing. When his lover does not reply Mycroft winces and takes off the glasses, muttering, "I hate them."

"Why?" Greg frowns.

"They don't suit me."

"They do," Greg protests and takes the glasses from him before Mycroft can put them away. "They look good on you."

"According to you, anything would look good on me."

"Well, that's true." He shrugs because there really is nothing more to say to it. "But this time I'm not saying this to make you feel better. Not that I ever do such a thing…"

Mycroft looks at him doubtfully but Greg just leans closer to peck him on the lips. "Trust me. With the glasses, or without," he says with feeling. "You are always breathtaking."


	40. Papers

**A/N:** Another one from Greg's POV.

**Prompt** from **Phantomhawk-writer**: lose stacks of papers(stuff that has nothing to do with each other and takes most of your desk space up).

* * *

><p>"Why do you have so many papers?" Greg grunted as he and Mycroft stumbled into the large desk, the DI trapping him with his body.<p>

Mycroft's hands slid around his neck, lips trailing kisses down Greg's jaw. "Paperwork is something _not_ to think about right now."

Greg fully agreed with that statement as he ran his hands down his lover's sides and slid them behind to squeeze Mycroft's backside. Still there was one thing nagging at the back of his mind.

"Anything important in that stack of papers?"

"What?" Mycroft drew back, confused. Then shook his head and went back to sucking on Greg's neck.

"You sure?"

"Yes," Mycroft bit down on his collarbone, prompting him to forget about the damn papers and get back to business. Mycroft's hands moved over his shoulders, sliding his jacket off. Then slim fingers started working on the buttons of the DI's shirt.

Greg turned his head to the side, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

"Then I think you wouldn't mind if I do this?" He said with a smirk and with one hand swept all the documents from the tabletop and to the floor. Before Mycroft could protest Greg grabbed him by the waist and heaved him up onto the desk. "You were right. The desk is more fun than the bed."


	41. Fast Food

**Prompt** from **Aillil**: fast food

* * *

><p>"Please," Mycroft pleaded, his eyes wide and staring at the man across the table from him. "Please, don't make me eat this."<p>

"I think you are being over dramatic," John said before Greg could form a reply.

Mycroft sent him a flat look which, just a moment later, was duplicated by his younger brother. It was nice to know they could agree at least on something.

"Come one, it's just food." Greg offered a consolation off-handedly.

"Fast food." Sherlock's voice was as cold as steel and conveyed all his disdain perfectly.

"Can someone explain why did we choose fast food in the first place?" Mycroft asked.

"Because we were hungry." Greg replied with a huge smile. He knew his lover was only getting more annoyed, but it was fun riling him up.

"We passed a better place on our way here." Sherlock commented and Mycroft nodded in assent.

John just rolled his eyes while Greg replied. "I was in a mood for something fried and greasy."

"And unhealthy?" Mycroft glanced at the DI's plate pointedly.

"Very," Greg replied with a smile. Mycroft frowned but, recognizing this fight as already lost, tentatively took a sip of his tea. Not perfect but bearable.

John laughed softly as he watched Sherlock sigh dramatically. "A breakfast with the Holmes brothers is never a normal breakfast."


	42. St John Ambulance 5

**A/N:** I thought I was done with the impromptu St John ambulance series, but I got this prompt and this is the result.

**Prompt** from **Boxerbee**: "Mycroft hates recuperation (in reference to the St John's ambulance story)"

Sorry if Mycroft is too OOC here. In my mind he is quite capable of acting like this.

* * *

><p>"Honey, careful." Mycroft reached out to steady his lover as Greg tried to sit up too quickly.<p>

"Honey?" Greg smirked up at him through his wince of pain.

"I am allowed to be nice when you are wounded." Mycroft replied dryly, but he could not keep the smile. "Especially when no one is around."

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Greg's question was sarcastic but good-natured. He smiled as Mycroft rubbed his back in small soothing circles. The DI was still getting better after being stabbed; he would have been a day away from hating his hospital room if not for the visits of his lover.

Mycroft, usually cold and collected, appeared to be a complete opposite of himself. There was a moment when Greg wondered how his lover acted when Sherlock was in a hospital all those years ago; but, unlike the younger Holmes, Greg was more responsive to Mycroft's care.

He always squeezed Mycroft's hand when his fingers entwined tentatively with his, smiled when his lover attempted to fluff his pillow and kissed him when Mycroft said something especially nice. Like right now.

Leaning forward more carefully now Greg planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Thank you for taking care of me." When Mycroft only looked away at the compliment Greg kissed him again. "You are the best."


	43. Tea

**A/N:** Okay. From this moment on I can not promise daily updates anymore. The school year had started, I'm going back to university this Monday. Also on the 5th I'm leaving for Amsterdam – so no updates for that time. I'll spend there a week. After that I'll try to fall back into my writing routine.

Also I promise you a longer one shot when I return.

**Prompt** from **Phantomhawk-writer**: tea(those ridicules ones like cherry and banana...but there are worse,so much worse ones.)

* * *

><p>"This tea tastes…funny." Mycroft scrunched up his nose and Gregory laughed softly at the sight.<p>

"It's not from a tea bag." The DI reassured, stirring the tea in his own cup.

"That's very nice to know, but…" Mycroft inhaled the aroma of the dark liquid in his cup. "It's unusual."

"It's cherry." Gregory shrugged taking another sip. He quite enjoyed the taste. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't like it." Mycroft said plainly. He started down into his cup.

"Can't you enjoy anything other than plain black tea?"

"I prefer classics." Mycroft replied. He would have sounded petulant but his whole regal posture diminished even smallest hint of childish behavior.

Gregory regarded him in silence and sighed when his lover put the saucer and the cup back on the table. Clear indication that he was not going to drink it. Gregory scowled – it seemed nothing could sway Mycroft in his belief that fruity tea flavors were a menace, he only stared back calmly.

Gregory let out an exaggerated sigh and got up to go to the kitchen, taking Mycroft's cup with him.

"Fine." He grumbled. "I'll make you another cup. Normal one."

"You are such a lovely host." Mycroft smirked and leaned back into the cushions of his chair. Satisfied, he muttered to himself. "There is nothing better than classic tea. Black."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** A review reply to Frecks, because I can not reply personally. I hope you'll see this:

Fisrt of all, thank you for noticing that mistake. I post this 221Bs unbeted, because they are so small and I usually post them right after finishing.

Also I wanted to say that I absolutely love your prompt! It's such a brilliant idea, I don't know why no one thought of it before. Actually I want to turn it into a longer oneshot. But, can't promise anything, it's already the second prompt that I want to turn into a full story, so I don't know how that will work out.


	44. Beer

**A/N:** And I am back! Actually I returned more than a week ago, but I always find it hard to fell back into my routine after a trip. Also my last story got no feedback at all; I think you can imagine how that can make an author sad.

So…I'm back to 221Bs for now. I'm not promising daily updates though since I also have to study now (Well, from time to time:) ). Also I will be working on two prompts that I decided to turn into actual stories.

**Prompt** from **stardiva: **"Beer. can see him detesting it... to me Mycroft would be more bourbon or sherry fan ,, where Greg i think would be more a Beer drinker"

I think that's not really what you were thinking of, but that's what my mind came up with:)

* * *

><p>Just as the kiss started getting passionate and the atmosphere more heated Mycroft suddenly pulled away. Greg groaned, leaning back in and chasing his lips, but his lover moved out of his reach.<p>

Mycroft's nose scrunched up in something akin to disgust.

"What's wrong?" The DI asked with narrowed eyes, perturbed and a bit worried.

Mycroft's gaze flitted down to his lips; not with lust – with contemplation. He let out a small cough as an attempt to control his reaction. "It's bitter." He muttered with a frown.

"Bitter?" Greg asked, incredulous.

"Yes." Mycroft replied emphatically.

Greg stared at him, unable to comprehend.

"You taste bitter." Mycroft clarified. He made a vague hand gesture. "Your kiss…"

Greg narrowed his eyes and, as he realized that his lover was actually serious, started laughing.

"There is nothing funny in it." Mycroft defended his words, affronted. "I don't like when your kiss tastes bitter."

"Well, you could have just told me from the beginning. No need to make such a face. I was beginning to get worried…"

"You should not be worried." Mycroft assured him. "Just…" Another vague gesture which probably was supposed to mean something. Greg preferred not to guess.

Greg pecked him on the lips just to spite his lover. "Fine," He conceded. "Before kissing you I will never ever again drink beer."


	45. Spicy Food

**A/N:** Mycroft's is not very nice here. But in truth, he is. Very very nice.

**Prompt** from **Hummingbird1759**: "Spicy food. Maybe it gives him heartburn, or maybe he just thinks it's gross. I can see a lot of different ways this could go"

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh no, not <em>that". Was Mycroft's first thought as he looked down at the plate full of food in front of him. He did not dare voice it. Putting on a pleasant smile he thanked the lovely hostess of the house. Because when a mother of your fiancé invites you for dinner you eat everything she offers and never complain.

Actually Mrs. Lestrade was a lovely woman. The food did look delicious…but also spicy. Very spicy. And Mycroft Holmes hated spicy food.

After exchanging pleasantries with Mrs. Lestrade Mycroft finally took his fork, there was no way to stall this any longer. He took a small bite of the dish. The bitter spicy taste burned his tongue; it wasn't too hot but for Mycroft, who preferred to stay as far away from any spicy food as possible, it felt like hell's fire.

Only his self-discipline, drilled into him from early childhood, kept him from cringing. Instead, Mycroft complimented Mrs. Holmes on her amazing cooking skills. Gregory smiled at him gratefully for that. And that smile was worth any suffering.

After two more bites Mycroft reached for his glass, taking big gulps of cool water.

"Mycroft, dear," Mrs. Lestrade said with a smile. "I am so happy to finally meet you. Greg made an excellent job in choosing his husband to be."


	46. Snow

**A/N:** I got two similar prompts one after another. Funny, people are already thinking of snow and ice:) In my mind there is only rain; hard not to think about it when I hear it outside my window every day.

**Prompt** from **Blackstar-Moonshadow**: Mycroft hates snow, (the traffic problems, it's cold and wet and so on) but secretly loves it...

* * *

><p>Mycroft glanced around the yard disdainfully. "I hate snow." He muttered as his eyes took in the large expanse of space, all covered in white. This year it started snowing very early and every snowfall was so heavy, all the London and the suburbs were drowned in white. They managed to get out of town for a couple of days.<p>

"No, you don't." Greg replied lightly. He was smiling – a huge grin stretching his lips – as he stood by Mycroft's side.

It was cold. Mycroft shivered and insisted. "I hate snow."

Greg chuckled and shook his head. "You don't." He repeated fondly.

Mycroft glanced at him; Gregory was the perfect part of this picture – like an image from the Christmas card. His grey hair, his red cheeks, chapped lips with blows of warmed up air escaping them with every laugh, kind brown eyes and snowflakes caught in his eyelashes.

Greg's gaze met his and Mycroft got another smile, gentle and loving. He leaned in to kiss it away. It was such a sweet moment. "Well, maybe you are right." He agreed in between their kisses. "Maybe I don't hate it that much."

And it was probably true; there was no place for hate on such a lovely day; the snow so white, the air so clear and the sun so bright.


	47. Ice

**A/N**: First snow here in Saint-Petersburg and it gave me an inspiration to fulfill this prompt.

**Prompt **from **El loco uno**: "How about ice? (icy roads, sidewalks, snowed in?)"

* * *

><p>Mycroft hated snow. But even more than snow, he hated ice. Mycroft knew that too many accidents had been caused by icy roads and he always had this small irrational fear at the back of his mind whenever he had to travel by car in winter.<p>

Mycroft hated ice. He probably should have mentioned that to Gregory before the man had decided to make him a surprise and take him ice skating. That would end in disaster, Mycroft thought as his eyes scanned the ice ring, full of loving couples and laughing children.

"Gregory," he said carefully, unwilling to lose his lover's beaming smile. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"You know what?" Greg asked, still grinning broadly. "I think you repeat that phrase too often. You need to be more adventurous!"

"I don't-" Mycroft stumbled over his words as Greg sent him a glare – a perfect mix of warning and playful. He looked down at the snow covered ground under his feet. A sigh fell from his lips and turned into white mist in the cold winter air. "Fine. I can try, but I don't promise you anything."

Greg's smile widened. "Don't worry," he said, extending his hand. Mycroft took it hesitantly, lacing their fingers together. "I'm here." And softly, under his breath, Greg added. "I'll always be."


	48. Pet Names

**A/N:** When I first read the prompt I thought about Arthur and Eames, but I tried to stay away from the image of that couple

Also, one website, which generates 'perfect' nicknames based one the first name and second name, when I entered Mycroft Holmes gave me the result: _Yummy Hot-Baby Nuts_. I…don't even know what it means and it's beyond silly, so I decided not to use it in the drabble. But I felt obliged to share this knowledge with the world.

**Prompt** from **Azura-Asaka**: 'Mycroft hates silly nicknames ('cause I think he's just a quite plane and simple guy when it comes to relationships and couldn't stand those absloute sugar-sweet names, couples give each other and if greg would use them i think it would drive him up the wall) espacially when other people are around.'

* * *

><p>"Help me, love?" Gregory asks and Mycroft bites on his tongue to stop a spiteful comment from escaping. He takes a pen and passes it to his lover. Passive aggressive never really worked on Gregory, doubtfully ever will; which doesn't mean that Mycroft stops trying.<p>

'Thanks, dear."

Gregory never notices Mycroft's reaction to pet names; probably because there is none, but Mycroft always hopes that the lack of response will clue him in.

"Pet, I think it's better to just let Sherlock do whatever he wants; it's easier to clean up his mess than stop him from doing something."

"It's just a scratch, honey, no need to worry."

"I'm sorry for being late, sugar."

Gregory loves those cute pet names. Sometimes he comes up with names so silly, Mycroft envies the man's imagination. Sergeant Donavan once burst into uncontrollable laughter when Gregory called Mycroft 'Hot Stuff'. Sherlock would never let Mycroft forget the 'Teddy Bear'. John once said that they sounded like the Doctor and River Song when Gregory called him 'Sweetie'.

Mycroft hates when his lover calls him those silly names in front of everyone. He's too proud for that.

But when they are alone, just them in their apartment, maybe he doesn't mind it so much when Gregory kisses him and leans close to whisper. "I love you, baby."


	49. Bees

**Prompt** from **fangirl**: "Bees- Sherlock's fascination with them led to him getting stung far too much in their childhood"

"I rather enjoy the start of autumn-" Mycroft's eyesight caught the jerky movement in the corner of his eye immediately; a tiny black and yellow creature making its way into his direct line of vision.

"Mycroft?" Gregory's voice called out, soft and confused; worried at Mycroft's abrupt stop.

Mycroft barely heard him, mind focused on the bee that was flying in circles in front of his nose. He jerked back as the insect moved closer to his face, trying to sidestep it and failing as the bee followed his movement. He let out a frustrating huff, stepping back, bumping into Gregory, flattening himself to his lover's front to avoid the yellow menace.

The bee made a small circle and then turned in his direction again; just as Mycroft was about to jerk aside Gregory's hand swept in front of him, hitting the bee, making the insect change the trajectory and fly away.

"What was that?" Gregory asked with a chuckle. "Are you afraid of bees?"

"You'd be afraid of many things if you had to live with little Sherlock." Mycroft replied, sending him a sidelong glance. "His fascination with those creatures led to too many stings for me. He always brought them home with him."

Mycroft just glared at Gregory as the DI laughed. "The great Mycroft Holmes scared of bees!"


	50. Jeans

**A/N: **Sorry, I haven't updated this in a while. But I am back and I doing prompts all in the right order, so it's doubtful I will skip any of the old ones.

**Prompt** from **Phantomhawk-writer**: "jeans!(the ripped ones especially because he is the type of guy"

* * *

><p>Mycroft Holmes is a type of man who likes being smartly dressed. Suits with perfectly ironed shirts, ties and waistcoats, pocket watches and umbrellas. He likes feeling like a true gentleman. Suits make him confident and powerful.<p>

Mycroft also likes the other people wearing suits. All those beautiful straight lines and gorgeous expensive fabrics can make any man irresistible. Why wear something else when you can wear a suit? He always loudly claims that casual wear is boring and very uncomfortable. Even jeans; _especially_ jeans. That confiding terrible parody of trousers. Mycroft hates jeans.

Then again…as Gregory Lestrade strides into his office, dressed in a pair of ripped black jeans that show off his…everything rather nicely and a simple black t-shirt, Mycroft can't help but stare. He glances up from the papers on his desk and takes in the sight of Gregory. Mycroft's breath catches in his throat.

He glances back down, licks his lips – sure that it won't go unnoticed by the other man – and looks up at him. Gregory smirks and asks, "Well," he turns around, allowing Mycroft to get a good look at his form in those jeans. "How do I look?"

Mycroft hesitates. _Edible_. He wants to say, but that would be highly inappropriate. Instead he mumbles half-heartedly (knowing that Gregory understands what he's really thinking):

"Not…bad."


	51. Prince Harry

**Prompt** from **theLilyandtheRose**: "Mycroft hates Prince Harry. Greg thinks it's because Harry's such a wild child but it's because Mycroft was teased for being ginger all the way through his schooling but then Harry came along and made it cool"

* * *

><p>With indignant huff Mycroft threw the paper on the tabletop. From across the table from him Greg lowered his own paper and lifted one eyebrow questioningly.<p>

"Another political scandal?"

"As if," Mycroft sighed. "Public fawning over their _beloved_ Prince Harry again."

"The one you hate?" Greg frowned. "It was always a mystery to me, why do you despise the lad so much. He seems likable."

"Exactly." Mycroft cringed.

He had never told anyone a true reason for his hatred.

Not many people knew but as a kid Mycroft was a ginger; as he grew up the colour deepened and turned a dark auburn with only a hint of red, but in childhood Mycroft was teased mercilessly for his hair colour. And then, when his classmates grew up enough to stop teasing – which had happened not as long ago as someone might think – Prince Harry had become public's favourite and made ginger hair a fashionable trend. People _liked_ gingers now.

Which Mycroft found appalling; also unfair. He had such a hard time at school over something that these days would have made him distinguished in a good way. "Very unfair," Mycroft grumbled under his breath, for a moment forgetting that he wasn't alone.

Greg chuckled. "Well, I don't represent the whole public but I hope it's enough that you are my _beloved_."


	52. Lazy

**A/N: **Guys, I need new prompts! And also, maybe a couple reviews;)

**Prompt** from **CassieHolmes**: "Mycroft hates being lazy. I don't know if you've done something like this but I was thinking they have a day off, Greg wants to sleep in but Mycroft doesn't."

* * *

><p>Mycroft stirs, opens his eyes, lets out a yawn and makes a move to get out of bed. A hand grips him around the waist and drags him back forcefully but gently; he falls back against the pillows.<p>

"Gregory," Mycroft mutters, his voice is soft but there is a warning in his tone.

"Come on," his lover's voice comes almost like a whine as Greg sleepily drags the other man to his chest. "It's Sunday. We can sleep in."

"You know I don't like sleeping in," Mycroft grumbles softly but doesn't struggle against Greg's hold anymore. A kiss is pressed to the nape of his neck and then the silence of a lazy Sunday morning is filled with his lover's soft snores once again.

Mycroft Holmes hates being lazy. Lazing around and doing nothing is the worst way to pass the time for him. When there is work to be done – he does it; when there isn't anything that requires his immediate attention Mycroft does something else, any small unimportant task.

He likes getting up early; sleeping in steals precious hours he can spend doing something useful.

But Gregory loves having lazy mornings. And as Mycroft lies there, Greg snugging him like a human sized teddy bear, he thinks that maybe he can make an exception. Only for his sweet boyfriend.


	53. Sherlock

**A/N:** I suddenly realized that I missed a couple of prompts. So I've been working on them today, which means you can expect more updates this week. Also, I am still asking for more prompts. Don't be shy;)

**Prompt** from **nothingbutasheet**: "Mycroft Holmes hates Sherlock, while secretly brotherly loving him ('cause we all know Sherlock can be an goddamn ass sometimes and annoying and messy and lazy)"

* * *

><p>"So what did my annoying little brother did this time?" The question left Mycroft's lips along with a deep sigh and the DI couldn't hold his grin.<p>

"Nothing too terrible." He assured. "Just breaking and entering."

"Victim's house?"

"Sure."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair tiredly. Every time Gregory Lestrade came to his office it was because of yet another Sherlock's brilliant adventure. Lestrade had become a bearer of bad news and Mycroft tensed just at the sight of him; not that it was not a nice sight but that reaction had been completely unconscious.

"How I hate him." Mycroft lamented as he waved the other man to a chair.

"Not you don't." Gregory protested simply. "You do hate cleaning up his mess though." He pointed out with a nod.

"That I do," Mycroft couldn't help but agree. He glanced at the other man, catching his smile and returning it tentatively. At least one good thing came out of all Sherlock's mad obsessions – he got to see Gregory Lestrade more often. Despite the reasons for the DI's visits, meeting him was always a pleasure. "Did you arrest him?"

"No. I'll leave it for you decide on a punishment."

"As if he'd accept it." Mycroft sighed again." But you are right; I could never hate my little brother."


	54. Ferrets

This was very much fun to write :D

**Prompt** from **LIGHTNSHADOWS**: "ferrets named Harry & Draco"

* * *

><p>"Those are cute little things…" Greg muttered as he watched two nimble little animals dash to the further end of the couch. "What are their names?"<p>

When no answer came Greg turned his head to look at Mycroft; the man was standing two feet behind, fidgeting and not meeting the DI's eyes. He looked nervous; though Greg had no idea why. Between the two of them Greg should be the one worrying – going to his date's house for the first time.

Mycroft's apartment was lovely, homely and clean. Two ferrets were an unexpected addition to the interior, but they were adorable as they dashed about, one dark grey and the other white.

"Mycroft? I need to know how to call them," Greg said with a smile.

The other man shuffled his feet and coughed before replying quietly. "Harry and Draco." And then his gaze found Greg's, challenging the DI to mock him.

Greg started back, stunned. Then he laughed but hastened to reassure Mycroft. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you just…the whole situation. I didn't take you for a Harry Potter fan."

Mycroft lifted his chin defiantly. "There are many things you don't know about me."

"True. But I'm hoping you'd tell me all those things one day." Greg replied honestly. "And to be fair, Harry Potter is a great book."


	55. Needles

**Prompt** from **LIGHTNSHADOWS**: "needles (doctor's injections, like a vitamin shot or influenza vaccine)"

* * *

><p>Mycroft flinched and moved away the moment the doctor took out a syringe.<p>

"Mycroft, there is no need to be afraid." The man said soothingly.

At what Mycroft straightened and replied arrogantly. "It's Mr. Holmes." The fact that he was ten years old didn't give them a reason to treat him like a child. "And I want Mummy here." He added petulantly.

The doctor shook his head and took a step towards the frightened boy.

"You will see her this weekend." Greg piped up from his place by Mycroft's side. "She promised to takes us to see that new movie, remember?" He added with a smile.

Mycroft glanced at his friend, biting his lip. "I don't like needles." He mumbled lowering his eyes.

"I'll hold your hand," Greg blurted out. When Mycroft looked up the other boy's cheeks were tinted with red but he was holding his hand out for Mycroft to take. He wriggled his fingers with a giggle.

Tentatively Mycroft reached out and put his hand into Greg's, clasping tightly while he extended his other hand and allowed the doctor hold it by the elbow gently. He screwed his eyes shut when he noticed the needle nearing his skin. As he felt the slight prickle he clutched Greg's hand tightly.

"See. All done. You are such good friends, boys."


	56. Penguins

**A/N:** I'm sorry I abandoned this series for so long. I don't even remember when the last time I it updated was. There was time when I couldn't make myself write anything at all, then I came up with an idea for an AU series and so on…But not long ago I got a new prompt in a review and realized that I wanted to continue.

So, I'll catch up on some old prompts first (mainly I take one prompt from every review I get), and then get to the new one

Also, these 221b's are not beted.

**Prompt** from **ITell**: penguins.

* * *

><p>"Aren't those amazing?"<p>

"It's just penguins. Nothing too exciting about them." Mycroft tugged on Sherlock's hand, slowing the hyperactive boy down. Penguins came second on his list of exciting creatures.

"You are stupid, Mycroft. They are brilliant!"

Mycroft sighed, gripping Sherlock's fingers tighter as he was tugged to a huge display with penguins. They were cute, he could relent that, but surely not worth all the excitement. As they came close Sherlock freed himself from his brother's hold and rushed to plaster his face to the glass.

"He sure is excited." Someone said at his right, a friendly comment punctuated by a warm chuckle. "Your brother?"

Mycroft turned, noticing a young man his age smiling up at him. He was shorter but broader in the shoulders. Quite handsome.

"Yes," Mycroft replied tersely, slightly suspicious. "You are..?"

"Greg," the guy offered a hand readily.

"Mycroft," he accepted the handshake. "You are here alone?"

"Yes. I just love animals." Greg replied enthusiastically. A smile never left his face, expression open and friendly. "Come here every Sunday."

"Wonderful." Mycroft retorted without much feeling.

"Penguins are the best."

"Sure."

"Come on, relax. Have some fun." Greg smiled at him again and, despite better judgment, Mycroft found himself tentatively returning the smile.

That's how Mycroft met the love of his life. All thanks to his brother.


	57. Cats

**Prompt** from **nothingbutasheet**: Cats.

* * *

><p>"No." It came as stern as Mycroft could manage.<p>

Gregory gave him a look. "No using the discriminating 'work' voice at home."

"If this," Mycroft indicated at the small bundle in his lover's hands, disgruntled. "Stays in our home, I'm going to need that voice."

"It's just a cat!"

"It's fat furry monster that is going to destroy our furniture and shed fur all over my suits."

Greg grinned, lifting the cat so the animal was nose to nose with Mycroft. "He's adorable."

Mycroft squinted at the ginger cat, a bored creature that regarded him loftily. There definitely was some hostility there.

"Where did you get it from?"

Greg frowned for a moment, stalling. "It belonged to a victim."

"A dead man's cat? Wonderful."

"He just wouldn't leave me. Followed my steps all over the Yard."

Mycroft heaved a sigh, reaching out to scratch behind the cat's ear. It leaned into his touch and closed eyes in pleasure.

"He'll grow on you." Gregory promised with a smile. "See? He already likes you."

Just at that moment the cat shook its head, breaking the tentative contact. It started fidgeting in the DI's hands, trying to get out, clawing at his fingers until Gregory let it go to run free.

Mycroft watched the cat go with suspicion.

"Fine," he muttered under his breath.


	58. Interruptions

**Prompt from ****Amy Lou Who**: I think Mycroft really hates being interrupted. Especially if it's he's interrupted during funtime with Gregory ;)

* * *

><p>"I'm not sure…"<p>

"Shut up." Gregory whispered to the soft skin of Mycroft's throat.

"Greg, please…" A breathless moan fell from his lips. He felt the other man's lips curl into a smirk; only in the most intimate moments did Mycroft use a short version of his lover's name and DI Lestrade enjoyed it immensely. "The office is not a place for-"

Mycroft didn't finish that thought as kisses were placed on his collarbone, teeth nipping lightly under the collar of his shirt. A sharp edge of the office desk was digging into his lower back, Greg's hands gripping into his hips, heat building up slowly between them.

Mycroft threw his head back, his hands blindly working on unbuttoning his lover's shirt.

There was a knock on the door. "Mr. Holmes!"

Another worried voice. "Mr. Holmes, I know you asked not to disturb you in a meeting but this is urgent!"

"Ignore them," Greg whispered into his ear and then nipped on the earlobe tenderly.

"Mr. Holmes!"

Mycroft pushed his lover away gently, taking a moment to compose himself before replying. "I am very busy." Not up to his usual vocabulary, but he was distracted by Greg's wandering hands.

"Mr. Holmes! Her Majesty is asking for you."

Mycroft groaned, this time from frustration, slumping dejectedly, and muttered under his breath. "Bugger."


	59. Baby Animals

**A/N:** I'm sorry for not replying personally to any of the reviews, my work is pretty time consuming and tiring; I just get home and try posting something. But I am very grateful for your reviews, they make me smile and encourage to continue writing:)

**Prompt:** baby animals

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><p>"Gregory, something's wrong with your cat!"<p>

Mycroft's voice was uncharacteristically laced with worry and Greg ran from the kitchen to the bedroom to see what was going on. His gaze fell on the bed, a fat ginger cat lying on top of the quilt and mewling pitifully.

"What happened?" He asked Mycroft who was standing two feet away as if scared to come closer. "Did he eat something bad?"

"I don't think so." Mycroft shook his head slowly, thoughtfully. Cautiously he made a tentative step forward. Before Greg could shoot another panicked question he continued. "I think we overlooked one major detail, though."

"You think he is sick? Diabetic, perhaps?"

Mycroft gave him a flat look, completely unwarranted. "He is actually a _she_."

"What? No." Greg glanced at Mycroft as if he was stupid. "It a guy, I'm sure of it. He's got a male name and his bowl was blue."

"And that surely is an irreparable proof." Mycroft rolled his eyes. He was heavily regretting his decision to let Greg keep the cat.

"But…" Greg spluttered, lost for words.

"If it is indeed a he, I suppose we are on a verge of a scientific discovery." There was so much sarcasm in his words, Greg's ears were practically dripping with it. "Because your cat is about to give birth."


	60. Sobbing

**A/N**: First of all, I'm sorry it took me so long to fulfill this prompt. Truth be told, I didn't want to put myself into a mindset needed for writing it. I was even trying to find a way to make a funny story out of it. In the end I went with the most obvious solution.

But I did try to make it original, not sure if the result is interesting or annoying. Anyway, I present you this 221B.

**Prompt** from **Blessed24 7: "**How about some good ol' fashioned sobbing? One of the boys just loses it."

I hope you'll enjoy this ficlet anyway:)

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><p>Greg couldn't make himself watch. A sight so terrifying and heart breaking; a man completely consumed by his anguish.<p>

Greg didn't look his way, knowing that such grief wouldn't bare a witness, wouldn't be grateful for sympathy of a stranger and only lash out if he offered his condolences. Would not die down as the tears dried.

Greg couldn't bring himself to move away though he desperately wanted to, transfixed by disgusting and yet so beautiful sight of sadness so deep it left marks on one's soul; never to be completely healed, not even by many gentle touches and tender love.

Greg wanted to close his ears with both hands, childishly hiding away from the soul shattering wails of a person who lost someone they deeply loved. The cemetery was so quiet sobbing seemed to reach every corner and echo from every nook. And he couldn't stand the sound of it anymore, but still he stood and waited.

Greg winced as he bit his lip too hard, afraid of uttering a word and breaking the morbid tranquility. He tasted copper as he swallowed around a lump in his throat.

Greg tried to brush away his own tears but they won't stop, slipping from his eyes unbidden as he stood there while Mycroft Holmes grieved for the loss of his beloved brother.

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><p><strong>AN:** All that in a universe where Sherlock wasn't living in Mycroft's house during his 'dead' days.


	61. Children

**A/N: **Guys, I need help! I was away for a long time but I am back home and I am back to writing now. I am continuing MHH, trying to catch up on all the prompts. But I am also continuing my AU series Patriots and I need a person who can Brit-pick that story. Chapters are short so I'm hoping it shouldn't take long to read through. I really need help.

Also I am looking for a beta for a longer AU story. Please, if anyone is interested, PM me.

**Prompt** from **strifylover13**: "how about kids i can't see Mycroft being into little children"

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><p>Mycroft couldn't tear his eyes from the <em>thing<em>. Oh God, he thought, we've went from pets to babies. In just a week. How did that happen? Though 'How' wasn't the main question, because what bothered him the most was 'What to do with it now?'

Greg seemed inspired, happy to babysit his friends' little girl, while Mycroft couldn't feel anything other than terror. He liked kids, their age difference with Sherlock big enough for him remember taking care of his little brother, but babies…Those small squealing creatures with no intelligence whatsoever were a completely different matter. Mycroft's main weapon in life were his words and there was no way to reason with someone who knew only how scream or mumble.

"Don't make a disgusted face." Greg chided him softly as not to wake the child in his arms. "She is adorable."

Mycroft tried relaxing his facial muscles but a frown seemed to be perpetually stuck.

"Would you like to hold her?"

"No."

"Come on," Greg coaxed.

"No." This resolute denial sounded a little less resolute and, feeling a weakness in his lover's demeanor, Greg pushed more with words and finally just handed Mycroft the baby despite any protests.

"Oh well," Mycroft breathed out and looked down at the small face. "I guess she is…lovely." And he smiled down at the baby.


End file.
